We Don’t Kinkshame the Beekeeper

Good morning, my internet darlings. It’s Saturday, and I’m awake, with my second cup of coffee. I’m debating putting real clothes on. For the moment, however, the “comfies” will do. It’s not like I’m leaving the house, right? The weather’s a bit too cold to even play in the yard this weekend.

My first stop yesterday morning was to be tested for Covid-19. I was fifth in line, and everything was super organized. Sadly, they didn’t allow me to record it. Honestly, after I saw a few video clips of the actual test process, I was freaked out. Considering the amount of tattoos and body piercings I have, some in really sensitive areas, a swab up the nose should have been easy. And it totally was. I warned the guy in the beekeeper outfit to stay out of my right nostril or risk the pipecleaner sticking on a nose ring. He thanked me for the warning, and then violated my face.

It didn’t hurt, but it certainly wasn’t comfortable. I firmly believe the Silkwood beekeeper could have swabbed the part they hit if he’d gone in through my mouth and didn’t need to get to it through my nose, but whatever. Beekeeper’s kink isn’t my kink, and that’s ok.

But, it was still better than Thursday’s shift.

Yesterday’s shift was a long day with StressedRPh and pretty much exactly what I expected. She’s a bit pissed off that the interim manager hasn’t taken over in our location yet. He (Music Man) is a fill-in pharmacist, and all the floater schedules were already in place when BossRPh left. Rather than switch out everyone’s schedule, the district office decided he would take over for the next cycle.

StressRPh is mad that she has to handle all the “manager-y” things before he starts. This isn’t anything new. BossRPh had knee surgery a few years ago, and was out for two months. StressedRPh was the interim manager while she was out. StressedRPh assumed she would receive a manager salary for the extra responsibility. When she didn’t, she confronted the DM and was told “you should’ve negotiated that before you agreed to do it”. Now she’s bitter because she’s doing the same manager things, such as the fact that NewTech didn’t make it in for any shifts last week and finding coverage for DayTech‘s shifts. I feel like she firmly believes all the district’s floater pharmacists should have had their schedules switched around so he could start immediately.

It’s mother’s day weekend. Happy mother’s day, if that’s your jam. I little old woman wished me a happy mother’s day “even if you’re not a mother, you’re still here caring for people.” That’s nice, because one of our batshit crazy regulars lodged a customer complaint – “the pharmacy treated me like trash” -because Whatshisname wouldn’t ring out her carriage full of bullshit. I sent my mom presents this week, her annual combination birthday/mother’s day presents. Hopefully, they’ll show up next week. I won’t talk about what they are, because it’s a fucking surprise.

Speaking of gifts, I sent Shawshank an order of books and photos this week. I picked up Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five and Cat’s Cradle, and Umberto Eco’s Foucault’s Pendulum. They should be arriving at various points next week. If anyone has any suggestions on what to send him, drop me a line and I’ll add them to the list I’m making. I also sent him another small batch of photos. Last month, I sent photos of me and the cats. This month, I sent more pictures of us, as well as some photos of the places I want to see while I make the trek to Canada.

What to Do? Fuck all.

My plans for the weekend are, once again, pretty damned simple. I need to do some regularly scheduled chores, mostly the typical cleaning things. The laundry can wait until tomorrow. Mostly, I want to declutter the common space again. The boxes are piling up.

However, I’m not looking forward to the potential meeting with the giant centipede in the bathroom again.

It’s also #selfcaresaturday, which means I can be found in the tub for a couple of hours tonight. I plan on making a black bean soup tonight, and I’ll probably have enough leftover for another night or two of dinners. Shawshank will be calling before dinner, to once more regale me with tales from the Inside.

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